Layne Cutter: You’re my mentor and an inspiration. If you ever need anything, including a new staff attorney, please let me know.
Raven Stewart: All fifteen female staff attorneys, two male staff attorneys, eighteen paralegals, Dana at the front desk, and Brenda walked out today. They suddenly felt sick. Please meet us at DeadHead in the Haight for drinks and appetizers at 5. We want to talk to you.
I’m stunned. I’m surprised. I take screenshots and email them all to Fiona. She texts me back.
Fiona McPhee: I’d love to go to DeadHead tonight. May I join you?
Me: Of course. I’ll see you there.
I create a group text to all those who sent me messages.
Me: I’m sorry about what happened this morning. I’d be honored to join you at DeadHead at 5. You all have been a joy to work with, and I’d like to buy drinks to say thank you.
Almost simultaneously, they all text back and agree. I smile, and for a moment I’m able to enjoy my late morning of a strong cappuccino and a fresh, warm pain du chocolat. Heavenly.
Now, how am I got to explain this to my family? My mother will be clearing out her guest room, thinking I’m one paycheck away from living in my car. I have savings. The question is, how difficult will the firm make this transition?
As it approaches one, I take a rideshare over to the Waterfront Café for my lunch with Walker. Perhaps he’ll have some sound advice, though I have Fiona now, so maybe I don’t even need it. I probably don’t need to deal with whatever he’s going to ask me for, either.
No matter what, I’m not going to let a bunch of fraternity assholes get to me.
Chapter 4
Walker
Gossip comes to me in many ways. Most of it I ignore, but every now and again, I stop and listen. When I hear all the women at White Baker Cousins walked out this morning, along with several of the men, it catches my attention.
That’s Marcella’s firm. It isn’t going to help my plan if she’s leading this revolt. Fuck.
When I arrive at the Waterfront Café, I’m shown into the private dining room, and Marcella is already standing at the window overlooking the water. She’s backlit by the light, and her dress—cinched at the waist with a narrow belt—accentuates her delicious curves. That, along with her signature stilettos, wakes my cock. She looks stunning.
“Well, well, aren’t you a sight?” I walk toward her, and we embrace. Not as lovers but more as work colleagues—and even that is a surprise. Her touch sends electric jolts through me. I see a small smile.
“Should we take a picture together and send it to my mother?” she asks. “Then we can be done and put this all behind us.”
I give her my signature look, which has most women eating out of my hand. “We can share a meal, can’t we?”
Her shoulders drop. “I suppose.”
She really doesn’t want to stay and hear my proposal; she knows I’m going to cash in all her IOUs.
I motion to the lone table in the center of the room. “When you reserve this room, the chef decides the menu.”
She nods. And reaches for her glass of water.
The silence isn’t awkward. We’ve had too many meals together over the years for that.
“I heard something happened at your firm today.”
The waiter chooses this moment to arrive and ask us for drink orders.
“A glass of iced tea with lemon, please,” Marci says.
“An Arnold Palmer for me.” I look at her as the waiter retreats, my question still hanging in the air.
“I was fired this morning.”
I sit up straight in my chair. “What happened?”
“Do you really want to know, or are you looking for ammunition?”
“Marcella, I know you don’t believe me, but I do care about you.”
She snorts.
“Please. Tell me what happened.”
She walks me through what they did to her. I know two of her partners, and they’ve been on my staff’s radar before. I also know a few of them from the club. They’re buddies with my dad, and I believe every last word she says.
“Why did the female staff walk out?” I press. “Did you ask them to?”
Marcella’s eyes go wide. “No way. I didn’t make a scene. I just insisted I take my personal computer—which has all my client billing sheets—and I left. I walked straight over to Fiona McPhee’s offices.”
“In those shoes?”
She smiles.
I sit back. They underestimated the housekeeper’s daughter. I love it. “I’m really sorry they did this. I know Fiona. She’ll have them quaking in their boots.”
The waiter returns with our drinks and promises the food will be along shortly.
“Fiona did mention her team had done some research on you,” Marcella says. “She said I came up. Why would you do research on yourself?”
“I wanted to know what any opponent would find and where my weaknesses are with voters. Better to address them before I run for office than after.” I take a sip of my tea, wishing it was bourbon. They also checked her brothers, and it turns out my father is actually the biggest liability of all those close to me.
She looks at me skeptically.
“It’s the truth! She looked at everyone in my life. I think she even looked at some of my teachers in case they injected me with crazy Marxist notions or something.”
Marcella giggles, and I realize how much I’ve missed that sound.
“You must be preparing to run for governor. That’s what your father always wanted. Well, he wanted you to be president.”
I might as well begin easing into how she’s going to pay me back. “I was, but Governor Darlington has presented me with a new option.”
Our meals are served, and the wait staff disappears.
“What’s the new option?”
“The governor looks like he’s going to be on the president’s cabinet next year, and he’s considering appointing me to replace him.”
“How is that possible? There’s an elected lieutenant governor. Doesn’t he move into that job?”
“Believe it or not, it’s a separate office with separate duties, currently held by someone from a different political party. So the governor can appoint someone to finish his term and run as the incumbent in the following election.”
She smiles. “I’m very happy for you. Do you need me to write a big check? I’ll have to work on that. White Baker Cousins gave me a whopping one-hundred thousand to walk away. I don’t know how much of my savings I’m going to need to defend myself and start my own firm.”
“I don’t want a check from you.” I look her in the eyes as I speak. “Did you know I’ve done eight favors for you over the last three years—two in the last month?”
“Good to see you’re keeping score, but these favors benefit you too. These people you’ve offered minor help will all write your campaign big checks.”
I could probably get my friends to write me checks regardless. It’s because she asks for the favors that they’re granted. “I don’t take plaintiff-attorney requests for favors, Marcella.”